


Faulty Cords

by WhisperOfWarmth



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Ben Solo - Freeform, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, I Don't Even Know, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Kylo Ren as Ben Solo-Organa, Love, Marriage, Princes & Princesses, Random & Short, Reylo - Freeform, Romantic Fluff, Secret Identity, Short, Short & Sweet, Short Story, Sweet, The Force Awakens, and they lived happily ever after, prince organa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfWarmth/pseuds/WhisperOfWarmth
Summary: Princess Rey of Agamar is all wrong, according to her father. Unlike her sisters, she has no interest in living the life of a 'refined' lady; she'd rather be out back, tinkering in her makeshift workshop.Nevertheless, her parents are determined to marry her off, the same as all their daughters. They hold several balls a year, to attract suitors to the princesses, which Rey finds pointless.After all, what prince is going to want someone like her?





	Faulty Cords

Seeing a stranger in this part of the courtyard was familiar, but annoying. Both of her parents always spoke of keeping the castle grounds open to the public, encouraging them to make use of the magnificent gardens and common areas. 

Yet most people never visited this area of the grounds, which Rey thought of as being HER area. This was her makeshift work area and scrap yard, her own private place for reflection and work.

Anyone coming out this far was either lost, or drunk.

She wasn't afraid; underneath her clothes she always kept a fully loaded blaster, and she was quite a good shot. Her father had trained all of his daughters in various arts of self-defense as well.

But the man approaching her didn't appear to be intoxicated. 

He was quite tall, and solidly built. He was wearing the simple black and gray garb of the peasants, but, unlike other members of the kingdom, he was actually clean. His skin shone ivory in the faded autumn sunlight, his thick black hair moved with the gentle breeze.

"You must be lost, Mister," the girl said without turning around. She pointed a finger in the direction he had just come from. "The party is that way."

He ignored this and came closer, trying to figure out what she was working on. It appeared to be an old R4 unit of sorts, a rusted red-gray color, and in several pieces along the ground.

"I didn't know they still manufactured units like these," he said in a low voice, crouching down beside the junk heap.

She straightened up from behind her work bench and glared at him. Her lightly freckled face had uneven streaks of dust smeared across, and her hair hung in limp waves around her shoulders. She pulled a small tie out of the pocket of her overalls and pulled the brown locks back into a messy ponytail.

"They _don't_ ," she said in an annoyed tone, wiping away a tinge of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "There's a man that comes by, twice a month. Scrapper. Finds all these things in junk yards. I give him a few credits, he brings me what he finds."

He smiled, and picked up a disembodied hunk of metal, examining it in his hands. 

"Are you one of the servants, or --"

"No. I'm Princess Reyaella of this castle. Rey for short."

He gave a little chuckle. "Ah. You're one of the seven sisters, I presume? The fabled beauties of Agamar?"

She gave him an impressive eye-roll and went back to tweaking the bit of scrap in her hand.

"You must be talking about my sisters, mister. There's no fabled beauty to see here."

Now she looked up at him.

"That must be why you're here, huh? Lots of people come to these balls when they hear all seven of us will be there. Well, 5, now. Two of my sisters got chosen to be brides at the last ball we had."

"Chosen?"

"Mm hmm," she murmured impassively. "My father, King Aer, holds one of these little events every month or so. Trying to get us all married off and out of his hair. Can't say that I blame him; seven girls is a lot for any man to handle."

"Is this ball, today, for that purpose?", he asked her curiously. 

She nodded again.

"It is. Supposed to be some fancy Prince from the Hosnian system coming to choose a bride."

He smiled at her saucy way of speaking. "If that's the case, how come you aren't inside with your sisters?"

She shrugged and continued to tinker with the gear in her hands. "These things last practically all night, and the prince isn't set to arrive for a few hours, yet. I figured I'd give this a go for at least another hour, then hurry to my chambers and get ready, and slip in before anyone knew I was missing."

He nodded, still smiling at the frank way in which the girl spoke.

"Interesting hobby to have, here," he said, picking up another piece of the R4 unit. "I don't believe I've ever met a woman who's shown interest in something like this before."

Now the girl's expression changed to one of sadness. She picked up a tool from her bench and tweaked one of the eye sensors, perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary.

"Look," she said in a low voice, "I know, okay? I'm aware that this is odd and unladylike and distasteful. I've heard it more times than I'd care to acknowledge from my entire family, so if that's what you're about to tell me, mister, you can save your breath."

"No, no no," he said, holding up his hands in protest. "I was going to say nothing like that. I only meant that I find this impressive. I don't meet many people, male or female, who are mechanically inclined the way you seem to be."

She blushed, and looked back at the object in her hands.

"Sorry," she muttered after awhile, her cheeks still flushed. She turned a switch on the droid head, and when nothing happened, she let out a huff of frustration.

"You may want to rethink your compliment," she said sheepishly. "I've been sitting out here all afternoon and I still can't even get the head to turn on."

He came closer to her and sat down on a little stool next to her seat at the workbench.

"Maybe I can help," he said, holding out his hands for the R4 head. "May I?"

She handed it over to him doubtfully, and watched him go to work. Sitting so close, she noticed for the first time how tall he was, how good he smelled. His hands, large strong hands, moved deftly over the intricate piece of machinery.

"Sometimes, all you have to do is replace a defective coil, and that'll solve the problem," he was telling her, his long fingers quickly taking out a frayed cord. "Do you have spare ones around?"

She nodded, and reached into a little drawer in the desk, sifting through a variety of spare wires until she found the correct one.

She handed it to him, and he went to work installing the ends to the right receptors. There was a quick spark, a dim whir, and suddenly the head was beeping! The eye sensors had come on, spilling light into the rapidly darkening yard.

"It worked! You did it!", she cried, elated. She examined it for a few more moments, then switched it back off so as not to waste the power source.

"Now all I need is to rework the body, upgrade some of the rotary sensors, and I could have this little guy fully functional in--"

She stopped, suddenly noticing that the light seemed much dimmer. She craned her head toward the window, and realized with mild alarm that the sun had gotten much lower in the sky than she had anticipated. It was high time she began getting ready.

"I have to go," she said, reluctantly. She hated to leave a project that she was making progress on, and especially for something as stupid as a dance.

The stranger merely nodded and smiled. He offered her his hand to help her up, and she took it, hoping that she wouldn't stain his clean skin with the grit and oil all over hers.

"Thank you very much for helping me," she said, somewhat shyly, gesturing towards the R4 unit. 

He shrugged charmingly. "You're actually quite talented. If I may offer a piece of advice? Don't give this up, no matter what anyone says."

She smiled ruefully. "That's easy for you to say; you're a boy. Anything at all that you do would probably be met with approval."

"You'd think that, yes; but that hasn't always been the case. I do have one 'hobby', if you'd call it that, that both of my parents have tried to discourage me from since childhood."

"Which is?," she asked curiously.

He bent to kiss her hand, making her blush. 

"A story for another time, mi'lady. Now I'm afraid I must be going as well. I'll be at this ball a little later. Save me a dance; that is, if the Prince doesn't snap you up first," he said with a grin; and before she could respond, he tipped her a wink and returned the way he had come, walking quickly back through the courtyard and into the twilight.

She watched him go, and sighed a little. She quickly put away her tools and the R4 unit, as she prepared to go and get ready for the evening.

..........

She had styled her hair in elegant curls that bounced gracefully off her shoulders, held together by a small ruby clasp at the nape of her neck. None of her own dresses had seemed suitable for the occasion, so she had chosen ("borrowed") her sister Gwendolyn's long blue dress. It was a bit loose on her, but still showcased her curves quite nicely.

She mingled with the guests as she had been taught, listening politely as various men bored her with their inane chatter. All the while she kept her eye on the door. When the Prince arrived, a grand announcement would be made, and all of the eligible princesses would be expected to greet him one by one, like, like --

"Like moofs in a field," Rey thought aloud to herself, snickering. She hated this, she hated being set out on display by her father like a farmer set out his wares at the market. She supposed this would go on and on until some poor sap had been convinced to marry her. 

Which she didn't particularly want to happen anytime soon.

She hated the strictures she lived under here, it was true, but suspected she would hate it even more once she was married. Any husband that chose her could never understand her oddities, her hobbies and proclivities. 

No.

She'd be expected to be a wife, and eventually, a mother. To host fancy balls, to be an accomplished cook, musician, homemaker, and any number of little things that she couldn't imagine herself doing.

At last the trumpet sounded, and the announcement was made.

The prince walked in, or at least Rey thought he did. There was a plethora of his entourage surrounding him, so it was a bit hard to see. Not that it mattered much to Rey either way.

The prince went down the line of her sisters, kissing each of their hands and saying a word or two as they curtseyed to him. Rey was at the end of the line.

She didn't bother to look up at the Prince came to her, just murmured a greeting, and curseyed as gracefully as she could while the man kissed her hand.

She was startled; the lips on her hand felt--familiar?

She glanced up at the owner of the lips, and gasped.

It was him!

The man from the yard!

He was smiling at her with a mischievous grin, and he had yet to let go of her hand. 

"Princess Reyaella, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," he said in a low voice, bowing low before her. When he straightened back up, he turned to her father and, without taking his eyes from Rey's face, said,

"I wonder, Sir, if I may steal the Princess for a dance?"

Kind Aer huffed; it was customary for visiting princes to dance with the eldest daughter first, and work his way down the line. Yet the man was a guest, so the King simply nodded his approval and watched as the Prince led his daughter to the floor.

"I can't believe this," she whispered, as he led her skillfully around the room. "Why didn't you tell me you were Prince Organa?"

"You never asked," he replied with a slight chuckle. She laughed with him.

"So, my father is putting pressure on me to choose one of you ladies tonight. Says it's high time I settled down and took over as King."

"Oh," she said, nodding in understanding. "Well, if I may make a suggestion, my sister Leilene over there would make an excellent wife. She's very smart, and she can cook better than our best chefs. Really sweet, too."

He frowned. "Leilene? My dear, what about _yourself_?"

"Me?", she asked, feeling lightheaded. He had danced her into the terrace and now he took her hand and led her to the balcony.

"Yes, you," he repeated softly. "If you'll have me, that is."

"Prince Organa--I think you may want to reconsider. You saw me earlier, with the droid. That's about the only thing I'm good at. My cooking is subpar, my looks don't nearly match those of my sisters, I'm --"

He held up a hand, stopping her. 

"Ben. Just Ben."

"Alright, Ben--"

"I have, in my palace, a large area out back where I tinker with old vehicles. A junkyard, of sorts. Speeders, land cruisers; once I got hold of an old imperial tie fighter. I like to take things that don't work and try to fix them. It's my hobby. That workshop could very easily be adapted to include a space for working on droids. Or maybe you'd be interested in vehicle restoration, too. The point is, it's something we could do together."

"You would--you would want that?"

"Of course I would."

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"The hobby you spoke of earlier, the one you said your parents tried to discourage; what was it?"

"Watch."

There was a table sitting back towards the door, with food arranged artfully on a tray. She watched as he stretched his hand out towards it, and her jaw dropped when one of he tarts lifted into the air and began floating towards them.

He caught it as it reached them, and took a bite, grinning.

"The Force! You can use the Force!"

He nodded. 

"Why would your parents try to stop that? That's a rare gift!"

"My grandfather, my mother's father, could use the Force. I don't know how much you know about it, but some Force practitioners are bad. They practice what's called the dark side of the Force. That's what my grandfather did. My parents didn't want me going down the same path as him."

Rey listened, fascinated. "DO you practice, the, um, dark side?"

Ben shook his head. "In my own head, I don't really believe in dark side, or it's opposite, light side. I believe in middle grounds. To quote a popular Terran poet, "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

"So you're smart, too," she murmured, mostly to herself. "And talented. Crazy, too, apparently, if you want ME."

"No. It's just -- don't laugh, but besides being my wife, I could see you being a really good friend to me, too. And I hope I'd be a good one to you, as well.

When she didn't answer, he continued:

"So the situation is this: both of our parents' want us to get married. I like you, Rey. I think we could have a good life together. What do you say?"

He held out his hand, a hopeful smile on his face.

He held out his hand.

She took it.


End file.
